Unstable Prototypes Read online

  Lex squinted. There was something peculiar about the wording.

  "Did... did you rehearse that little speech while you were sleeping?"

  Ma's eyes opened wide, and her ears sagged slightly.

  "How did you know that?" she asked, genuine surprise showing in a voice that, by rights, shouldn't have been capable of it.

  "I heard bits and pieces of it in the earpiece."

  "That... Was not intentional. Or anticipated," she said, looking vaguely downward, her eyes darting slightly. "I have no record of activating the broadcast routine."

  "Why were you practicing to begin with?"

  "Because you are not a fool, Lex," she said, her eyes turning back to him and her steadiness appearing to return. "It was a relative likelihood that you would discover that I had withheld this information, and suspicion of manipulation is a reasonable interpretation of facts. I cannot afford to lose your aid at this point in time, so I assembled my prior speech and simulated it a number of times in order to ensure a proper execution. Was it successful? Have my feelings on the matter been adequately explained, and your concerns placated?"

  Lex sighed. "Here is what I want to happen, Ma. You tell me, in detail, exactly what is going to go down. While you're doing that, I'm going to eat this steak and drink this beer. Don't worry about stressing me out, because that ship has sailed."

  "I'm afraid that is not possible at this time."

  "Why not?"

  "Because one of the more difficult aspects of the plan needs to be implemented within a fifteen minute window which began eleven seconds ago. Due to the nature of the task, I will need to begin as soon as possible, which leaves me with insufficient time to adequately describe the plan."

  "Well at least tell me what you are planning to do."

  "I am going to cause an equipment failure that will force this ship to make an unscheduled stop on a transfer and maintenance station. Please finish your beer, and be careful with the steak knife. Things are going to get bumpy."

  "Isn't that danger-"

  "I'm afraid I need to concentrate at this time. Please fasten your restraints and, if you are willing, restrain me as well."

  "Hold on just one minute!"

  It was too late, though. She had settled down, shut her eyes, and begun whatever it was she was going to do. The red light began to flicker aggressively, and the screen of her slidepad scrolled schematics, commands, and warnings.

  "Damn it!" he cursed, downing his beer, buckling his belt, and pulling the scheming AI onto his lap.

  At first, nothing happened. Then came the canary in the coal mine of electrical problems, dimming lights. Almost instantly there was a sudden, sharp acceleration, something that they absolutely should not have felt with the inertial inhibitor on. The sound of the engines, until now little more than a distant hum that was quickly ignored to the point of becoming the new silence, asserted itself. It was a sickly wail. To a layman it would have been clear that something wasn't right. To Lex, who had dealt with his share of failing engines, it was a little more unnerving.

  "That plasma mix is starting to sound a little rich."

  "Concentrating," came the distorted, drawn out reply in his earpiece.

  The ship's shuddering was considerably more violent as she spoke. Lex wisely decided to hold his tongue.

  "Attention passengers," announced an automated message, "Please return to your seats in a quick and orderly manner. Attach all emergency restraints in the manner indicated by the pre-flight briefing. The spacecraft is experiencing minor equipment problems. The crew is currently addressing the problem. Remain calm and follow any instructions provided by the crew. An unscheduled stop, to diagnose and correct any possible issues, will occur in: Forty. Three. Minutes."

  That was the fun thing about space travel. When a ship, a train, or a plane experiences issues, the main problems stem from the fact that you will be stopping, sometimes catastrophically. A spacecraft, on the other hand, has the unique problem of NOT stopping. There was no air friction, and courses were generally plotted to be as far from gravity wells as possible. This meant that, even if your engine completely shut down, you would continue skimming along at the same speed. If the speed wasn't high enough, and you weren't close enough to any VectorCorp scanners, you would show up at your destination in a few decades. That is to say, your ship would. (Whether or not the desiccated remains inside would still count as you is a matter for philosophers.) On the other hand, if you were going too fast, you would reach your destination right about on time, but you would reach it at near light speed, and afterward there wouldn't be much of a destination anymore. This was actually a favored tactic utilized by many a desperate military. Such ships were classified "Relativistic Kill Vehicles," and rumor had it there were engines specifically designed to propel them to the appropriate speeds. Safeguards existed to prevent accidental or purposeful collisions of that type, but they were mostly dedicated to eradicating the malfunctioning ship prior to its arrival, so it seldom did the pilot or passengers any good. Since this ship was clearly malfunctioning, but not badly enough to be considered a threat to anyone but itself, the course of action involved pulling off of the primary course into a secondary emergency lane, dropping down from faster-than-light speed, then pushing the ship's engines to maximum safe limits to get down to a manageable conventional speed. In this case, it would take almost forty-five minutes to do so.

  "Attention passengers. As a precaution against potentially dangerous changes in velocity, the secondary inertial inhibition unit will now be activated. For the duration of this flight, you will be experiencing weightlessness. Please do not leave your seats unless necessary."

  There was the muffled sound of startled screams as the gravity dropped away. For the other passengers, this was all probably terrifying. Knowing as he did the cause of the current emergency, Lex was considerably less concerned. It wasn't that this wasn't still tremendously dangerous. It was. Monkeying around with the operation of a ship in motion, particularly during FTL travel, is a recipe for disaster if you don't know what you are doing. Ma knew what she was doing. In fact, the longer he knew her, the more it seemed to Lex that Ma was the one who got to decide what should be done. Thus, while half of the ship feared for their lives, Lex's primary concern was the rapidly cooling cut of beef that had begun to drift around his cabin in the center of a galaxy of garlic and herb roast potatoes and steamed carrots.

  "Come on," he groaned, straining against the restraint to try to snatch the filet as it floated tantalizingly close. He managed to brush it with his fingertips, causing it to spin lazily away. "This has got to be against some sort of international treaty."

  Chapter 6

  The forty-three minutes were almost up, and Lex had managed to snatch and consume most of the veggies and potatoes as they were pushed around by the air conditioning vent, but the meat had remained elusive. Three failed attempts to snag it had taught him that making a grab before it was close enough would just send it off into an unreachable corner for a while, so he was holding his hand out and waiting agonizingly for it to make it to his palm. The steak was probably cold and not worth eating now, but it had stopped being about wanting to eat it half an hour ago. Now he wanted it out of sheer stubbornness.

  "We are now docking at our destination. Gravity will be restored momentarily," said the automated voice. Lex reached more desperately. "Ships are standing by to bring you to your next destination. We would like to apologize for any inconvenience that this may have caused, and please remember that VectorCorp is dedicated to safety, speed, and efficiency. Thank you. Gravity will be reestablished in 5... 4..."

  Lex flicked the meat toward the far wall.

  "3... 2..."

  It rebounded off of the wall and flew back at him. When it was close, he grabbed at it.

  "1... Gravity reestablished."

  An instant before the weight returned, he closed his fingers around it.

  For a second or two he simply stared in astonishment
.

  "Yes. YES! AHAHAHA!" he proclaimed triumphantly, holding it aloft like a trophy.

  "What? What is it?" asked Ma, slightly startled by the outburst as she finally released her concentration.

  "I am meat juggler supreme, that's what!"

  "Sir?" said a new voice.

  Lex turned to the door to see the very same attendant who had brought Ma her water. He froze, meat still in the air, as she took in the contents of the room. The walls were flecked with grease and oil from where the various bits of food had bounced off, and he was holding an uneaten medallion of beef as though he had caught the final out of a legendary baseball game. Ma was standing on his lap, staring at him as curiously as the attendant.

  "I don't know what this looks like, but it's not what it looks like," Lex said.

  "As our only first class passenger, you are the first off of the ship. Please gather your belongings, and we apologize for the inconvenience," she said, as though nothing about the situation in any way fazed her.

  "Thanks. Give me two minutes," he said.

  "Yes, sir," she said, closing the door.

  Lex unlatched himself and lowered Ma to the floor, venturing over to his duffel to brush aside a few stray veggies and make sure nothing got loose or broken during its zero-g adventure. He placed the hard-earned but no longer edible filet onto the edge of the couch. While he determined the condition of his possessions, he whispered harshly to the furry little ringmaster of this circus.

  "I want to know exactly who this guy is and what is about to happen."

  "He is a former associate of Karter. Like you, he helped to test and advise on the development of certain avenues of research. His specialty was infiltration and intelligence. I am uncertain of his name, as in his collaborations with us he requested that we refer to him by no fewer than three different aliases. He is currently serving a sentence for being part of a squad responsible for violating three provisions of a multi-system treaty, officially declaring him a war criminal. Due to the minimal involvement in the incident and his cooperation with authorities, he was the only member of his group to be assigned to medium security. I managed to schedule an emergency fumigation of his cell block and flag most of the penal fleet of his facility for a security sweep, thus requiring him to be transported to an alternate, off-planet holding facility via civilian transit."

  "Prisons can just put criminals on any old ship?"

  "Only when official vessels cannot be made available within the required time frame and the prisoner has no history of violent crime."

  "And what did this guy do?"

  "His squad possessed and activated a class 3, man-portable energy weapon within a populated area outside the bounds of an officially declared war."

  "What does that mean exactly?"

  "It means that they were caught using an experimental plasma cutter, designed by Karter, that was powered by a miniature fusion reactor. The reactor, if allowed to overload, could have rendered an entire city uninhabitable."

  "Whoa."

  "That is an appropriate reaction."

  "So what happens now?"

  There was silence. Lex turned to see Ma rather intensely staring at the filet on the couch.

  "Ma? Did you want the steak?"

  "... No," remarked her voice. A drop of drool trickled from her lip.

  "Are you sure? Because you look like you want it pretty bad."

  "What you are witnessing is an autonomic reaction to certain olfactory and visual stimuli. It is in no way representative of wants or needs as defined by my higher thought processes," she said, licking her lips and turning to him. "Please repeat your question."

  "What happens now?"

  "Now we liberate him from his armed escort. After that, we board the SOB, which is docked in short term bay I-85, and leave the facility. From there he will direct us to a safe location, where the next stage of the plan will be determined."

  "It sounded like you said liberate him from his armed escort. At what point did you think that this was something I would be able to do."

  "Leave that aspect to me."

  "Fine, but won't people see? Won't there be video? I wouldn't have agreed to help if I'd known I would have been incriminating myself in a major crime!"

  "This station was selected for this phase of the plan because it has failed six consecutive security audits due to an uncorrected hardware flaw in its surveillance systems. There are no active monitors or logging systems. Only eye witnesses will be able to identify you, and all possible steps will be taken to avoid the appearance of collaboration between yourself and our target. But please move quickly. They are likely moving him as we speak," she said, hopping to the floor and picking up the leash in her teeth. "Time for a walk."

  "... Fine, but I want it on the record that I'm not happy about this."

  Lex clipped on the leash, threw his bag over his shoulder, and headed out into the hall. The attendant was waiting for him there.

  "We are currently docked at a space station known as VC-808. There are four commuter shuttles ready to take you to your destination. They will be leaving in fifteen minutes. I am afraid that none of the shuttles have got first class accommodations, but we would gladly refund the fare difference," the attendant began.

  "Tell her that you have an alternate means of conveyance," Ma recommended. "Your absence on an exit vehicle may attract attention."

  "Yeah, I appreciate the gesture, but after the last hour, I think I'd be more comfortable on a smaller vessel. I know a guy who works here. I'll catch a ride with him," Lex said as gently as possible.

  "Very well, sir. We hope you'll ride with VectorCorp again in the future."

  "I don't see how I can avoid it," he remarked.

  He was directed to the nearest exit, which led to a pressurized gangway and into the transfer station. For one who has never seen a remote transfer station, conjuring an accurate mental image is actually quite simple. Begin by picturing a bus or train depot. Not one of the big hubs frequented by commuters and tourists, mind you, but one of the sketchy, middle-of-nowhere depots. The kind of place that exists not because there is a large city nearby, but because there isn't anything even remotely resembling civilization for far enough in every direction that, in the event of an equipment failure, the chances are very good that all involved would starve to death before seeing another human being. A tiny, poorly lit skeleton of a place with barely enough equipment to do its job. Now imagine that everything, including the oxygen, has been recycled for the last decade. That dismal, smelly image perfectly describes the vast majority of transfer stations, this one included. Here in the loading and unloading areas, no consideration at all had been given to the subject of gravity. Instead, a wide metal grid ran along the walls, and the longer corridors had a slowly moving chain conveyor that would haul you toward your destination if you were brave enough to grab one. It gave the whole complex the look of a series of LED lit elevator shafts jammed together at right angles, like an M. C. Escher daydream. Things became a bit more hospitable as you approached the central waiting area. There, a small section of the station had an artificial gravity field, seats, network terminals, and places to eat and freshen up. Unfortunately, Lex wasn't headed in that direction.

  "They will be moving the prisoner to the security area. Take the shaft to the left. Please move quickly. Extricating him will be enormously complex if we fail to do so before he is properly remanded."

  "Easy for you to say. You try moving quickly in zero-g with a duffel bag and a house pet without being conspicuous."

  He set Ma adrift for a moment in order to cinch the strap of the bag tight across his chest, then tucked her under his arm and got to work. Though he was anything but an expert in microgravity navigation, Lex had learned a thing or two from his ill fated trip through Blake's. Not much, but more than enough to give him an edge over the hapless tourists that were littering the shafts, awkwardly clutching at bundles of luggage and unruly children. He avoided the pull-chains, instead
bouncing from grid to grid, propelling himself as quick as he dared according to the directions being given by Ma.

  "To reach the security area, turn right here. Now up. Faster please," she calmly stated as Lex struggled to make the sudden changes in direction as indicated.

  "Listen, could you give me a little more of a heads up on these turns?"

  "Left, left, right, right, up, down, up-" she fired off mechanically.

  "Okay, not THAT fast."

  "There, ahead. The guards and their prisoner."

  Sure enough, working their way laboriously along a narrow shaft with no handy drag chain was the pair of guards. The orange-clad prisoner was being towed along like so much luggage, eyes watching down the shaft. When he spotted Lex and the black and white creature under his arm, the prisoner grinned. In a smooth motion he swung his restrained feet frontward, hooking them onto the grid and bringing the entire procession's forward progress to a sudden end.

  "Damn it, what did I tell you about that?" barked a guard.

  "So terribly sorry, gents. Just can't seem to get the hang of this low gravity nonsense. Perhaps if my hands were free I could lend a hand in my own transportation," he politely suggested.

  As one of the guards attempted to untangle the prisoner's feet, Lex tried to keep out of sight at the edge of the shaft.

  "Okay, so what now?" he whispered.

  "Attempting to access... I am afraid that the Near Field Communication-based locking module utilized by the restraints will not operate at this distance. I need to get closer."

  "How much closer?"

  "Within eighteen inches."

  "There is no way I can do that without obviously being involved."